


There But For The Grace Of You

by griseldalafey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Tournament (2009)
Genre: F/M, Woobie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3588705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griseldalafey/pseuds/griseldalafey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Macelle: He always watched her, but tonight as his eyes flickered over her face hungrily, he couldn’t shake off the sinking feeling that something was off. So Joseph MacAvoy finally summons the courage to approach Belle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There But For The Grace Of You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Macelle piece. I have yet to watch ‘The Tournament’, so most of my head-canon is based off wonderful fics I’ve read for this amazing pairing. There isn’t much plot to this yet, mainly an attempt to get a grip on the characters. Constructive criticism is very much welcomed!

He tried to focus his attention on what Mrs. Donegall was telling him, but Joseph MacAvoy found his eyes continuously straying towards the petite woman behind the counter, pouring coffee and handing out the cups with a friendly smile.   
Three years ago the diocese had granted the parish of Middlesbrough the money for a small extension of the church and now there was a community center attached to it, containing a few rooms that served as a catechism classroom, a children’s nursery, his office and a small conference room to shelter the many committees that had formed within the parish.

The spacious hall was used for gatherings, meet-ups after service and occasionally rented out for a party or a celebration, providing the church with some extra income.

Ever since the community center had been opened, the monthly social gatherings after Sunday evening Mass had been well attended. MacAvoy enjoyed the opportunity to talk to his parishioners outside of the confession booth or during a house call. The atmosphere after evening Mass was generally more amiable and tranquil and people were more open and talkative over a cup of coffee. It was at gatherings like these that he learned the little things.   
The things people didn’t bother to ring him up for, or to request a prayer for. Interacting with his parishioners after service felt more like a conversation from one human to another and as time had past he’d begun to see the value of it.

Of course it also meant that he got to spend an extra hour in her presence and that was always something that was worth more than all of his earthly possessions.

It had been two years since Belle French had moved to Middlesbrough to take over the position of Head Librarian at the small public library and ever since he wondered on a daily basis how he had ever managed to exist without her presence in his life.   
Before Belle had set foot in his life, he’d been on the verge of collapsing. The occasional drink he once took to take off the edge of particular long day had long since turned into a daily habit and in the months before she’d some to Middlesbrough he hadn’t been able to make it through Mass without a swing of whiskey just to steady his trembling hands.

He hadn’t realized how dark and desolate his world had become, how he’d been slowly slipping away into an endless pit of depression, fatigue and self-loathing.   
And then she’d floated into Mass on a bright Sunday morning in April, wearing a white coat and a small, felted hat of the same color, looking like an angel that had just descended from heaven. He had first noticed her eyes, blue as the sky itself, earnestly gazing up at him as he’d stood on the pulpit, desperately trying to remember the words of his sermon, stumbling hopelessly through the liturgy.

When after the service had ended he had stood outside on the church steps to greet his parishioners she had introduced herself to him as ‘Belle French’ and granted him one of her warm, breath-taking smiles, rendering him completely unable to even string a coherent sentence together.   
She was a vision. She was light and warmth and smiles and soft laughter and his heart had seized on her. He was forty-three years old, he’d been a priest for over two decades. He had never even so much as looked at a woman before he’d met her, but he was utterly captivated by her.

For her he wanted to be a better man. A good priest, a man of faith. And at the same time he had never wished to be anything but a man of the cloth more.    
Looking at her he could suddenly see the family he yearned for in vivid detail. A cottage somewhere in the village, him holding a regular job - there must be something he would qualify for - and coming home at the end of every day to her smile and kisses and the beautiful, perfect children they’d have together.

It was a pathetic, ridiculous fantasy, but one he couldn’t help but cling to in the dark, desperate hours of the night when sleep refused to grant him a few hours of reprieve as his failure and deficiency taunted him and the bottle called to him.   
He’d been better at resisting the siren call of alcohol since he had her in his life. Not that didn’t slip up occasionally still, but the fear of being found out by her for the fraud that he was turned out to be the one incentive that actually managed to keep him away from the whiskey.

He was spineless and weak and a useless excuse for a priest, but as long as Belle didn’t know that she would continue to look at him with kindness in her eyes and she would continue to devote many of her hours to his church.

* * *

 

He always watched her, but tonight as his eyes flickered over her face hungrily, he couldn’t shake off the sinking feeling that something was off.   
She was her usual cheerful, efficient self, managing the counter by herself, appearing to be everywhere at once, but her face was pale and there were shadows underneath her eyes. And when she smiled, her smile didn’t reach them.

And he should know, because in the past two years he had studied each and every one of Belle French smiles as diligently as if they were the gospel itself.

Something was bothering her, that much was obvious, but there were too many people present at the moment for him to approach her. Still, he couldn’t stop the worry from curdling in the pit of his stomach.    
Something, or someone had hurt her, had chased the smile away from her eyes, had caused her shoulders to drop and even if he did manage to get her to confide in him there wasn’t likely anything for him to say that would offer her comfort. He would fail her like he had failed everything and everyone else in his life.

Eventually though the church emptied out and even Mrs. Donegall took her leave, advising him kindly to take an early night because _“… you look tired and distracted, Father._ ”

He showed the last parishioners out, closing the front door behind them before making his way back to the main hall.   
 Belle was washing up the coffee cups and he joined her behind the counter, wordlessly taking a tea towel from the hook and proceeding to dry the cups she’d placed neatly in the dish rack.

She seemed to startle out of her reverie by his actions and send him an apologetic look. “You don’t have to do that, Father. You must be anxious to go home.”

He made a non-committal sound and continued to dry the cups, wishing only to prolong their time together for a few more minutes and help her in any way that he could.   
 She was so generous, so willing to offer her time and effort to help others and there was so little he could do to repay her for it.   
He had already extinguished most of the lights, but the bulb above the kitchen counter still shone brightly, making her chestnut curls glow in its soft light.  He soaked up the moment and the quiet bliss of this small, domestic scene, despite how it made his heart ache for things that would never be.

All too soon the dishes were done, the counter clean and Belle already shrugging into her cobalt blue coat, the one that never failed to take his breath away because of the way it set off her eyes. Their moment together was already gone and it would be days before he’d even see her again and months before he found himself alone with her, able to enjoy her presence without being distracted by anything else.

“Miss French…” he started, before he could even contemplate how he was going to finish that sentence.

She stilled her movements, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Yes, Father?”

There were a million things he wanted to tell her. How beautiful she was in every way. How she lit up his world, simply by being there. How she continued to fill his life with happy moments like the one they’d just shared, moments he felt so undeserving of. Moments he thought he’d never experience again before she came to Middlesbrough.

None of those things he could voice, so instead he scraped his throat and said haltingly. “I.. I do hope you know how much your help and dedication is valued. _I_ appreciated it… very much…”

His words sounded so meager, spoken out loud, but at least it was _something_.

Then her eyes filled with tears and his heart clenched with horror, the blood running cold in his veins.  He could do nothing right. Even paying her simple compliment was beyond his capacity and he had mucked it up to the point were he had actually made her cry.

“I’m sorry…” He took a few helpless steps towards her, realizing belatedly that his nearness would do nothing to comfort her and he froze in his tracks. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to cause offense…”

She gave a shaky laugh, rubbing her cheeks furiously and closing the remaining distance between them by stepping closer towards them.   
 “You didn’t, Father… not at all. _I_ am sorry… You just… that was exactly what I needed to hear and I… Thank you…”

He fumbled awkwardly inside his pocket for a handkerchief that thankfully turned out to be clean and he pressed it gently into her hand, feeling unspeakably relieved when she lifted it to her face and used it to wipe at her tears.

“Are you all right?” His voice was low and soft and barely above a murmur as he finally voiced the question that had been plaguing him all evening. “It’s only… you seemed out of sorts…”

She glanced up at him, a surprised, almost startled expression on her face. “You could tell?”

She wasn’t denying it and his stomach tightened with worry once more. “What’s bothering you? Won’t you tell me?”

She shook her head slightly, dipping her head in embarrassment. “It’s silly really… hardly worth mentioning…”

“I doubt that… Try me though… ” He knew he was pressuring her, but something was obviously not right and every instinct he had pressed him to find out what it was that had upset her so.    
They were leaning quite close together, not touching, but closer than they’d ever been before and he reveled in it.

“You remember that last week was Susie Holden’s wedding?” she asked and he nodded.   
Susie Holden’s sudden wedding to Arthur McAllistar might have been a rather sudden affair since the bride had been three months pregnant at the time, but he still looked back at the ceremony with a certain sense of gratification. It was plain obvious that the couple adored each other and so despite the teachings of the church he had agreed to sanctify their marriage with a minimal of fuss, feeling that Susie Holden was much better off in the arms of her loving husband than under the thumb of her zealous, overbearing mother.

“Well, Mrs. Holden, Susie’s mother asked me if I could help out with decorating the church. I agreed and we got here the Saturday before last to put everything together…”   
Next to him Belle took a shaking breath and ploughed on. “As we were putting up decorations the conversation turned to marriage in general and one of the girls asked me why I wasn’t married…”

_‘Because no man is bloody good enough,_ ’ his mind answered instantly, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, giving her an encouraging smile instead.

“I told them… well, what I always say… that I haven’t met the right person yet and that I rather be alone than being with someone while we aren’t right for each other and that I don’t mind being alone really…” As she continued to explain herself she started to talk faster, almost stumbling over her words near the end and he was torn between feeling relieved that she hadn’t found anyone that had captured her attention and saddened by the fact that that included him.

“Anyway…” she took another deep breath before divulging the final part of her story. “Then Mrs. Holden said that it isn’t very Christian to live a life for solely selfish purposes…”

_“What_?” he all but snarled, a rare burst of anger filling him. “That’s preposterous… she has no right to say such things…”

In his opinion Mrs Holden was one of the most dangerous, poisonous women one could come across. Years ago, when the first rumors of his drinking began to circulate she’d been among the most venomous campaigners for his removal and even now she still looked at him with barely concealed disdain.

At least in his case she had reason for her contempt, but to accuse sweet, caring Belle of being selfish when she in fact was only there at the time to help out at her daughter’s wedding was outrageous.

“Well…” Belle looked up at him once more, obviously relieved to have gotten the story off her chest. “I know what she’s like and I shouldn’t have let it bothered me, but it did and I’ve been feeling sorry for myself all week…”

“She was _wrong,_ ” he answered insistently. “You are one of the least selfish persons I’ve ever come across and even suggesting such a thing is just… just…” His mind draw blank trying to convey just how ridiculous such a conclusion was.   
 “She was just so very wrong.”

In reply Belle worried lip for a moment before muttering darkly: “You’d be surprised at how selfish I can be on occasion, Father.”

“I beg to differ,” he told her, surprising even himself with the conviction of his words. “I meant what I said earlier. You give so much to this community, you are so valuable… I don’t think words can express enough how much.   
And busybody’s like Mrs. Holden have no business telling you otherwise.”

She blushed at his words as a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I think that’s the most unforgiving thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Well, you’ll find that I can be very unforgiving… on occasion,” he answered drolly, his heart leaping at the sound of her soft laughter and elated by the fact that her smile finally reached her eyes again.

“Thank you, Father,” she told him, gazing up earnestly at him, her eyes soft. “Thank you for noticing something was wrong.”

“You matter,” he told her simply, the urge to touch her, to wrap his arms around her and soothe every bit of her hurt away all but overwhelming. She took on so much, but it occurred to him for the first time that there weren’t many people who looked after her and suddenly he felt extremely protective of her.   
“Just come to me if there’s anything bothering you… I want to know… I want to help you in any way that I can…”

“Oh, you do,” she assured him, her voice oddly unsteady.   
She folded up his handkerchief that she was still holding and offered it back to him and without thinking he closed his hand around it, still gazing into her brightly sparkling eyes.

“It’s getting late,” she eventually said and he imagined she sounded regretfully. “I should be getting home.”

He nodded wordlessly, walking her to the back door of the community center, anything to prolong this moment.   
 “Sleep well,” he told her quietly, basking in her smile.

“I think I will, thanks to you,” she replied, placing her hand on his upper arm, just above his elbow for a moment and could feel the warmth of her touch searing through his thick layers of clothing, rendering him absolutely speechless.

“Good night, Father.”

He watched her walk away until she rounded the corner and was out of his sight, clutching the handkerchief in his hand like a life-line.   
He would keep it and cherish it as a reminder of this night.

Useless as he was most of the time, at least tonight he had managed to do something right. He had managed to get Belle to smile again and if he never accomplished anything else in his life, this just might be enough.


End file.
